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“I have no interest in killing you in any style.” He hauled his shirt over his head, his muscles flexing and taunting her. “Just in making you come.”
Her fingers twitched with the need to touch him, but the cuffs held her firmly in place. “Holy shit, you have tattoos.”
His hands froze on his belt. “I do.”
They swirled all over his chest and shoulders, but didn’t go any lower. No wonder why she hadn’t seen them when he’d been in a shirt. The colors all popped beautifully, intermixed with dark black outlines and tribal tattoos. She’d always had a thing for guys with ink, and Jake was no exception. If anything…
He was the perfect example.
On top of all that inked hotness, his tan, lean abs were carved to perfection, and the light sprinkling of hair on his chest begged to be stroked. Too bad she couldn’t touch. When he undid the button of his pants, her heart stopped and yet impossibly sped at the same time.
She licked her lips. “I thought you lived on the right side of the tracks now. Why lock a good girl up to have sex with her?”
He took his leather belt off and tossed it back and forth. “You make a living by lying and stealing. Tell me, Tara. How does that make you a good girl?”
Chapter Seven
Jake gritted his teeth and watched Tara on his bed, waiting for him to give her pleasure. Fuck, she was hot. She wasn’t really trying, yet somehow she’d found a way to rope him in. Made him want to have her. No, need to have her. Ever since she’d come apart in his arms earlier, he’d been a tightly wound ball of desire. Thank fucking God she’d decided she wanted to play on his terms.
If she hadn’t agreed, he might have exploded.
He shouldn’t be touching her. Shouldn’t be doing this. But he couldn’t seem to stop. Not anymore. Not ever again. She’d be his.
Handcuffing her to the bed had been a test. Instead of testing her, though, all he could think about was ripping her clothes off and burying his cock deep inside of her. He’d bet his salary she was a screamer, and he planned on making her scream a lot.
After she begged for it, of course. That was a must.
“I’m not a bad person, Jake. I need you to believe that.” She swallowed. “I steal things, yes, but for good people. I give people their long-lost items back. Can’t you see that? Don’t you believe me?”
He caressed her cheek, skimmed over her chin, and then across her collarbone. “I don’t think you’re a bad person at all. You’re one of the best people I know.”
Which was why she was too good for him.
She shivered. “You do?”
“Yes. I do.”
Inching closer, he traced the neckline of her tank top. If he concentrated, he would bet he’d see the top of her nipple. If she truly belonged to him, she wouldn’t be dressed so skimpily. Wouldn’t hang it out there for every other man in the world to see.
“But—”
“Shhh.” He closed his palm over her breast, squeezing gently and weighing her in his hand. She fit him perfectly. Good. “No more deep conversations about good and bad. I’m going to fuck you, and the next thing I hear out of those lips better be you begging me for more and calling me sir.”
He followed the curve of her breast, his fingers slightly dipping underneath her shirt. She lowered her lids, watching him though her lashes, but wisely kept quiet.
When she arched her back invitingly, he lowered himself over her. “You have no idea how many times I have pictured having you here, at my mercy, like this. If there’s anything I regret in my whole fucked-up life, it was walking away that night without burying myself in your pussy. I shouldn’t have regretted doing the right thing by you, but…I did. And now you’re here, waiting for me to make you scream. Waiting for me.”
She arched her back restlessly. “Jake.”
“You have to ask me to touch you. Beg me.” He fisted her hair. “You’re going to beg me so fucking much, starting now.”
“P-Please.” She wrenched on her wrists, rattling the metal against the wood. “Undo me so I can touch you?”
He chuckled at her request. “That wasn’t the type of plea I’m looking for.”
“Please.” Her breath came out fast. “Jake.”
“Please what?”
